Work Text:
When Jon agreed to go to a holiday party with his closest friends (his coworkers who have somehow learned to deal with him), he did not agree to a rude and completely uncalled for emotional awakening.
He expected tastefully dimmed lights, the crackling of a fire layered with soft music, an excuse to wear something actually casual, sweets that come around once a year, a warm drink in hand, and mildly annoying but thematically passable decor. All of those things were present and accounted for, but he didn't account for how annoying the decor would end up being.
The party, if it could even be called that since only four people including the host were there, took place at Sasha's apartment. If it had been at Tim or Martin's place, he wouldn't have come. Martin wouldn't have wanted the Big Bad Boss in his home, and he could've silenced his phone to ignore Tim for the rest of the night. Sasha however, she would've broken into his house which would've been less than agreeable. He had to prioritize his at home privacy over one evening of divulging his social awkwardness outside of a work environment.
Since it was such a small "party," they all ended up decorating together. Though he argued that less was more (so they could start the party and he could go home sooner), everyone else dragged him into putting up decorations that could only comfortably be hung up for the next week and definitely infringed on Sasha's ability to move around her house freely. Both Tim and her seemed to get a little bit too much out of seeing his reactions to increasingly more absurd ornaments being strung around every single room. At least they didn't forget the essentials, so after a few long hours, he sat on Sasha's couch with a mug of tea in low light and focused on the pops of embers breaking instead of giggling coming from the kitchen. Martin had made tea for all of them, and Sasha brought out various treats that her and Tim had made earlier that day. He appreciated that they understood he needed to recharge alone occasionally, so when he said he was going to sit on the couch, they didn't bother him.
He didn't realize how suspicious they were acting until it was too late.
After relaxing enough to feel like regrouping with them, he overheard them whispering to Martin that he should go grab Jon. Taking that as his cue, he walked back to the kitchen. They met in the doorframe at the same time and were immediately stopped by Tim and Sasha. She pointed up to where a small fake plant adorned with a red ribbon hung above them.
"Mistletoe," she said in a sing songy voice.
"Wow, wonder how that got there?" Tim smirked at them without an ounce of surprise or remorse.
Jon had played this game many times before. His high tolerance of being forced into intimacy was forged by years of peer pressure and unwillingness to fight people. It ended up becoming more enjoyable for him to do it and take the fun out of the situation. It was Martin though. He had already started stuttering out countless protests and looked like he was about to be sick. They were closer than they had been all night, and Jon could see how he had done something different with his hair and was wearing a bit of makeup. Light blue eyeshadow, a dusting of glitter on his cheeks, and a clear gloss on his lips. He thought about what it would be like to kiss him and came to the conclusion that it would be weirder to say no. The only weight attached to the gesture was what he gave to it, and if he gave any weight at all, that would imply that he cared. It was a simple peck for god's sake. He made eye contact with Martin before leaning up and pausing to give him time to refuse. When he stayed, Jon pressed his lips up against Martin's.
It wasn't at all like he expected. They were only supposed to kiss for a moment, but as if Martin's lip gloss was some kind of glue, he felt unable to pull away. It was a gentle brush of the lips, and yet he found himself wanting to chase that connection and deepen it. Martin put his hand on Jon's hip. He indulged in the sensation for a little longer before drawing back. Martin's hand continued to burn into his side through the thick fabric of his sweater.
"Do you mind?" He glanced at Martin's hand.
Almost as coming out of a trance, it took him a moment to notice his hand was still touching Jon. "Oh-oh! I'm sorry I didn't mean to, um. Do that." He let it drop back to his side.
"Uhh, do we need to leave or something?" Tim threw a questioning look at Sasha. She rolled her eyes at him.
"Did you forget this is my apartment? I'll boot them out and they can sort out if they want to go home together or not."
"We're not doing any of that, because this is not a big deal." He was frankly quite annoyed at their assumptions.
"What are you talking about? Your face is bright red, Jon."
About to childishly reply 'no it's not,' he calmly (shakingly) reached up to feel the heat radiating off his face pour into his hand. That wasn't good. Unable to stop himself, he peered up at Martin. His eyes twinkled as they reflected the fairy lights, and his cheeks were a dark pink as if he had been out in the cold for too long. His lips were less glossy than before, and Jon realized why. Martin's eyes caught on Jon's lips.
"Oh," he breathed. "Excuse me."
Jon booked it. Right out of her apartment into the cold dead of night. Unknowingly, he made Martin run after him. When he finally caught up to Jon, Martin asked if he could kiss Jon this time.